Deadly

She told me she was never going to die from it.

                As I stood over her grave on that November morning, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh.  “Auntie, you were wrong.”  I hope she was listening.  I hope she knew how much pain I was in.  I wished things turned out differently.  But, she was too stubborn, it was sickening.

                I sat down in the grass.  A light breeze blew through my hair.  “I have to get going soon, but I wanted to visit you for a bit because it’s the twenty-third.  Happy sixty-third birthday.”

                My thoughts went back to a day when we had one of our many disagreements.  I made a quick stop over to her apartment to bring her some groceries.  There was a special at the local supermarket and I figured I’d pick up a few extra items for her.  She lived by herself and did not have a car, so I tried to help her as much I could.

                “Is there by any chance you could do me another favor, Shelly?” Aunt Mary asked.

                I put the last two cans of chili into one of the cabinets and answered, “Well, it depends on what the favor is.”

                Aunt Mary was in her bathrobe, sitting on the sofa, reading a book.  “Could you run by the gas station to buy me a pack of Marlboro’s?”

                I sat down at the kitchen table.  “No.”

                “You don’t have to pay for it.  I have the money.”

                “You know how I feel about it.  I won’t support your habit.  By picking it up for you, I’m supporting it.”  I looked at her to see her expression.

                “Are you going to be like this forever?”

                Without hesitating, I said, “Yes.  And, I’m not apologizing because I shouldn’t be sorry for something I believe in.”

                She let out a big sigh and she rolled her eyes.  That was my cue to be on my way, so I stood up and grabbed my jacket and told her I’d see her over the weekend.

                That memory reminded me of what I did for her a couple days before Christmas last year.  I stopped by her apartment after I got out of work and I told her I had something for her.  I told her to close her eyes and put out her hands.

I placed it in her palms and when she opened her eyes, she asked, “What is this?”

“It’s a Nicotine patch, Aunt Mary.  I want you to try it.”

“Well, I don’t want it.”  She handed it back to me and began walking to the kitchen.

“Why won’t you just try it?  Please, for me.”

“Because I have no intentions on quitting.  Just leave me alone about it.  Thank you, but no thank you.”

“You never once tried to quit.  There’s a first time for everything.  It will be good for you.”

Aunt Mary began putting away dishes.  It was her way of avoiding eye contact with me.  “I’ve been smoking since I was a teenager.  I’m not quitting now.  It’s pointless.”

“Why do you have to be so negative?”  I asked.  I threw the patch on the kitchen table.  “It’s time for you to quit.  Do you want to be on your death bed from chain smoking?”

“I’m not going to die from it.  Trust me.”  She turned to face me.  “I don’t want to argue.  I’m going to smoke.  Just deal with it.”

I realized tears were streaming down my face.  Aunt Mary barely ever went to the doctor’s.  The autopsy showed it was lung cancer.  If only she had quit when I told her too, maybe she would have had a few more years.

I wiped my tears and stood up.  I tried to collect myself before saying my last words.  “I still love you, Auntie.  I will always love and miss you.  I’m sorry that we spent a majority of the time arguing.  I want you to know that.”  I blew her a kiss.